


Too Darn Hot

by CarolinaNadeau



Series: The Music Man: The Happily-Ever-After [19]
Category: The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Fluff with depth, Intimacy, Marian in lingerie, Pillow Talk, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolinaNadeau/pseuds/CarolinaNadeau
Summary: Harold and Marian spend some time escaping from the heat in their hotel room on a summer trip to Des Moines.
Relationships: Harold Hill/Marian Paroo
Series: The Music Man: The Happily-Ever-After [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/42775
Kudos: 2





	Too Darn Hot

**Author's Note:**

> This barely even counts as a new story for me because it was almost entirely written about three years ago and I just had to polish it for publication and give it an ending. So with that context in mind, it won't be held against me in court if I do end up writing yet another shameless plotless overlong M-story next, right? I can't guarantee that I won't! ;P

Summer in Des Moines was hot, the sun mercilessly beating down upon paved streets, the air trapped between tall buildings with nowhere else to go. The heat was probably similarly unbearable at home in River City that day, but there would be breezes across open fields and cooler air coming in from the lakes and river that would take the edge off. In the midst of the city, the August heat was unforgiving.

Harold and Marian Hill had spent a fair amount of time outside today, too, as their main motivation for coming to Des Moines this time – other than for the music professor to select and order finer uniforms for the band – was to do the sort of outdoor sightseeing that they couldn't have done during their winter honeymoon. Harold had insisted on treating his wife to this little romantic getaway, reasoning that, in only five months or so, they were going to have a baby to take care of, and it was sure to be a good while before they would be able to bear to be separated from their child overnight by any more than the distance between their home and Mrs. Paroo's house.

With that in mind, they'd planned to spend a weekend largely devoted to exploring some of Des Moines' parks and gardens during the daytime. They'd had a lovely time so far today, spending most of the day strolling through beautiful Union Park and taking a picnic lunch there – and Harold, of course had made quite certain to locate a secluded, romantic little alcove where he could kiss her properly for as long as they dared, the risk and the thrill of it intensified by the sounds of people and automobiles passing nearby.

The temperature had been steadily climbing all morning, though, and spending too many hours in the heat was difficult to bear, especially after husband and wife had left the shady sanctuary of the park. It certainly didn't help that pregnancy had made Marian more sensitive to heat, and made Harold even more conscious of her comfort and well-being. It was he who had suggested that they head back to their hotel and rest a while until dinner time – and, judging by the frequency with which her husband drew his handkerchief across his brow, and the way that he'd been squeezing his eyes shut here and there against the glare of the sun off pavement and motorcars, the librarian knew that he hadn't made the suggestion _wholly_ for her sake, which made it even easier for her to take him up on his offer.

So Marian presently lay sprawled atop their hotel bed in the thinnest little slip of fabric she had packed with her, a billowy cotton chemise that ended at her thighs, meant to be worn with a matching pair of harem pants that she had decisively forgone. It would be a bit of work to get dressed again in a few hours, but right now, she desperately needed to feel as little as possible against her skin. All of those layers of clothing that modesty and fashion and practicality demanded, even in their lighter summer forms, only seemed to trap the heat close to one's body until it became unbearable, and it was an immense relief to have shed them.

The spinning of the ceiling fan and the oscillating brass fan, along with the breezes from the open window, did a fairly good job of keeping the room cool, and the crisply folded comforter and freshly changed sheets felt very pleasant on her back, too. The librarian almost could have dozed off like this, especially with the shades half-pulled as they were... but she was not particularly inclined to close her eyes when Harold was strolling around their room in only a pair of pajama bottoms.

For once, seduction had _not_ been her intention when donning such a skimpy getup, but Marian was certainly open to the possibility that her husband would be, well, _seduced_ by it without her even having to do anything. In this oppressive heat, she was well aware that making love would not be not the wisest idea, but she couldn't help but crave him anyway, and she didn't attempt to disguise how avidly she was watching him.

Maybe it was an effect of her pregnancy, or maybe it was just her passionate nature in full blossom after over eight months of marriage to a man who'd been absolutely thrilled to help her explore and embrace it, but she'd found herself initiating their lovemaking more and more lately, not only unashamed of how much she desired him, but reveling in demonstrating that very fact whenever and however she pleased. Harold could not have been happier with this development, to say the least, so why should she ever again restrain herself from loving him just as just as she wanted to?

Still, no matter how much confidence she'd gained, the librarian always found herself blushing a bit at moments like these, her heart leaping in excitement as she waited for Harold to finally notice her admiring, inviting expression. She sat up a little to watch him intensely as he finished whatever he was doing at the little table across the room, anticipating how his expression would transform when he turned around and saw her. With her hair still mostly pinned up, she didn't feel at her very _most_ alluring, but it was unthinkable to take it down in this heat. It hardly mattered, though – she knew that he found the prospect of making love to her with her hair still in her chignon to be intensely erotic for a whole host of other reasons, and he might delight in this single remnant of the perfectly proper outfit she'd just cast off.

When he at last turned to face her, however, Marian's eyes were immediately drawn to the glasses of water brimming with ice in his hands, and the sight of them was almost as beautiful to her as that of her barely-dressed husband. Momentarily, all of those inconvenient desires fled her mind and she could think only of how very parched she still was.

"I filled up the ice bucket while you were changing," Harold said by way of explanation as he proffered one of the glasses to her.

It was a perfectly ordinary, sensible thing for him to have been done, but the librarian felt like she could almost cry from gratitude. "How thoughtful of you!" she exclaimed before taking the glass with both hands and sipping from it gratefully, letting out a little sigh of relief as she felt the effects of the cool water spread through her body. "That does help."

Sliding onto the bed beside her after moving the ice bucket over to his nightstand, Harold took a hearty drink off his own glass. "The breeze feels good, too," he noted as he found for himself the ideal position between the two fans and the window, settling onto the mattress just far away enough from her that their body heat wouldn't mingle.

Despite the enforced distance, Marian certainly noticed the appreciative way his eyes wandered along her lightly clad form. She blushed, of course, because she couldn't help it, but this was exactly how she'd hoped he'd react. It made her feel beautiful and adored and strangely powerful.

There was an interesting dynamic to knowing that they really _shouldn't_ fool around, at least in the very immediate future, the librarian quickly realized – she had the mischievous thought that this would make for a delightful opportunity to tease him. She could test the limits of his restraint, see how much he could take before he abandoned all common sense and touched her.

Eyes fixed on his, she made a show of slowly, deliberately sliding her hand along the nape of her neck to brush away the stray hairs that were already escaping from her chignon, a pose she knew would emphasize her curves perfectly and push her breasts toward him… but within seconds, the mere touch of her own hand on her neck just made her conscious of how darn hot it was, and all thoughts of seduction or being seduced were pushed aside once again as she took another much-needed sip of ice water that turned into another and another until she'd half-drained the glass already.

Instinctively seeking all the possible relief the blessedly cool glass in her hand could give her, Marian carefully pressed it up against one flushed cheek and then the other, though she knew it wouldn't help for long.

Harold watched her with just a touch of amusement on his face, unfortunately overshadowing the desire she'd been so excited by. "Hmm, you know…" Setting his glass down on a coaster, he reached into the bucket sitting on his nightstand and pulled out a single chip of ice. "If you want something cold on your skin, we have a lot of extra ice you could use," he mused. "And that way, there's no risk of spilling water all over yourself."

After placing her own glass off to the side, the librarian held out her other hand to him. "May I try one?"

Harold dropped the ice chip in her hand, and Marian immediately brought it to that place at the nape of her neck that felt so overheated, closing her eyes on a sigh of happy relief. The sensation was much more intense than merely pressing the water glass to her face, of course, but she was so hot that it didn't bother her at all. She next drew the ice forward across her collarbone, almost down to the dip between her breasts, and it felt wonderful even as it quickly got smaller and smaller, leaving droplets of no-longer freezing water trailing along her skin…

It was only when she realized how this whole thing must look to her husband that her eyes flew open, and her face flushed at the ardent intensity in his gaze. From one unconscious motion, she had Harold looking at her like he wanted to tear her thin slip of a nightdress away and pounce on her that very moment, and all of her longing for him came rushing back, her stomach doing a pleasant sort of flip-flop.

"You were right, it's very nice. You should try it," she stammered, caught off guard. She was feeling all flustered, unable to distinguish if the heat she was feeling came from within or without.

"I think I will," Harold answered, his voice low and velvety smooth, an inscrutable smile sneaking onto his face, and he reached over to grab another piece.

As ever, Marian was quite transfixed by the sight of her husband's shirtless form in motion, and she took the opportunity to admire the way the beautiful, well-defined muscles of his back flexed as he leaned away from her. She longed to reach out and trace every contour of his body.

When he turned back to face her, ice in hand, the librarian met his gaze with a sweet, flirtatious smile – and she only had about a second to notice the devious mischief in his eyes before he lunged toward her, wrapping his free arm around her waist and easily entangling her, pulling her back against his chest. With his other hand, he trailed the ice chip along the length of her collarbone, and she could do nothing but burst out giggling, both from his ridiculously boyish maneuver and the chilly, tickling sensation of the ice.

"Harold! I should have known!" she protested teasingly with a light swat to his shoulder, wriggling against his hold on her with no intention of actually escaping. "You know I didn't mean you should try it _on me_ – "

"Ah, but this is more fun, don't you think? And I can reach places you couldn't, anyway." He purred the words huskily in her ear while he brought the ice around to the back of her neck and used it to gently trace the outer lines of her shoulder blades.

"Ooh," the librarian sighed on a shiver of contentment, yielding her mock struggle and relaxing in his arms. "You're right, that is – quite nice." Whatever his true motivation was, she had to concede that he _did_ have a point.

Harold responded with a low chuckle, continuing to draw the ice across her skin. No longer needing the pretense of holding her fast, he removed his arm from around her, laid her down and restored the space between them so as not to overheat either one of them too much.

Marian let her eyes flutter dreamily half-closed as she rolled over onto her side, exposing the entire expanse of her back that was left uncovered by her chemise.

She could feel him beginning to draw icy loops and abstract patterns as his hand traveled across her body – and then, suddenly, a single elaborate sweeping motion that felt distinctly deliberate.

"Did you just – draw a treble clef?" Marian asked, raising her head to smirk at him.

"I like practicing them," Harold answered with a laugh. "I think I'm getting pretty good, aren't I?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Well, it's not as if I can _see_ it…"

"Hey, hey – can you tell what I'm writing?"

"Wha – " Suddenly, she understood quite clearly what he'd meant, because she could feel him trace a sharp up-and-down motion on her back – an M. "Marian," she guessed immediately.

"Now, at least let me finish!" Harold admonished with a laugh, and Marian dutifully closed her eyes, relaxed into the softness of the bed, and concentrated on each subsequent motion he made with the ice, envisioning the shapes in her mind. A downward loop, a back-and-forth flowing line…

"Music," she announced at last. "Though I'm not at all convinced that you didn't simply change your mind after I guessed so quickly."

The music professor shook his head with a laugh, a few locks of hair falling roguishly over his forehead in the most appealing way. "I'll never tell."

The next word he wrote was long, and Marian knew almost from the first few letters what it must be, but decided to allow him his fun in writing it all out – and besides, she wanted to prolong the pleasant sensation of the ice on her skin. By the time Harold reached the last letter, she could feel it melting into nothingness, more water than anything else.

"So, did you get that one?" he asked, sliding the remainder of the disappearing ice up the back of her neck until it was gone.

With a sly, sidelong smile, she replied, "Beautiful," half enjoying the compliment, half repaying it to him in turn.

The music professor laughed softly, cupping her face and tracing the line of her cheekbone with deep reverence. "Maybe not the most original choice, but I couldn't help it. It's hard to think of much else, looking at you. "

Under different circumstances, Marian might have shaken her head good-naturedly and called him an incorrigible flatterer, but right now, with his eyes looking intimately into hers, shining with tender adoration and wonder, she responded by bringing his hand to her lips and kissing the tips of his fingers with equal affection.

Eventually, Harold drew his hand back and leaned over toward his nightstand to grab a fresh piece of ice, but this time, the librarian followed right behind him.

"My turn!" she exclaimed in a rush of playfulness, almost climbing over him in an attempt to grab some of the ice before he could.

Tumbling back to the center of the bed in a fit of shared laughter, husband and wife ended up entangled in a sort of standoff with Marian straddling his lap, holding her ice chip poised above him with an impish grin.

"Now, what should I write?" she teased, leisurely drawing the ice over the broad expanse of his chest. He jumped slightly at the first contact of the ice, which the librarian found rather entertaining – she loved raising goose bumps on his skin, though she usually preferred doing it through less direct means.

Then he shivered again, a startled sound falling from his lips, as she incidentally passed the ice over his nipple, and Marian pulled back, completely mortified that she'd been so careless as to do such a thing without asking first.

"Oh, no, did I hurt you, dear? I'm so terribly sorry!" Distraught, she pressed her hand against his chest in hopes of warming away whatever discomfort she'd caused.

But Harold quickly shook his head, taking her hands into his own and kissing them. "No, no, sweetheart, it didn't hurt. It was just surprising – more sensitive there, you understand – just like anything."

She swallowed hard, considering the full implications of that, and she knew her husband must have been able to see the heated curiosity in her eyes. Her mind was swirling with hazy possibilities – _should she do that again? Should she do something more? And what would it feel like for him to do the same to her? Would ice really feel pleasant_ everywhere _?_

As he took in her longing, wondering expression, Harold's eyes blazed with a desire that had gone unfulfilled since they'd stolen kisses in the park. He brought his hand around to the back of her head and threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling her close to him for a deep and luxurious kiss that made that familiar, insistent heat bloom deep in her abdomen, urging her to press closer and closer to him.

This was a terrible idea if their priority was to keep cool, Marian was well aware, but there were certain things that were always more appealing than mere physical comfort and practicality… like Harold, for instance. She whimpered softly into his mouth, bringing her own hand up to stroke his face and tangle in his hair – oh, he could do this to her so easily, make her abandon all good sense in favor of raw sensuality, and it was glorious.

Pulling her nightdress up and over her head, her husband tossed it with surprisingly accurate aim to a nearby chair before rolling her beneath him and taking the ice from her hand.

At first, he tried to flash her a devious, playful grin, but Marian could see the way his expression melted into astonished awe, the way it always did when he looked upon her fully unclothed, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Oh, Marian," he murmured as he gazed at her, and her heart and her cheeks warmed at his outburst of adoration. He collected himself after a moment, but the librarian always loved a reminder of how his love for her could make him forget himself and drop any pretense, no matter how small.

Propping himself up on one arm, Harold traced a wavy line with the ice straight from her breastbone to her navel, and though the motion required barely any effort on his part, it made her reflexively writhe and wriggle and whimper in fits of laughter.

He drew the ice in a circle around the slight maternal curve of her belly, then stopped for a moment, looking at her with a grin that was almost self-conscious. "I'm sure you can guess this one." Across her stomach, he traced four letters, and, indeed, she suspected his intention from the very first.

"Oh, it's 'baby,'" Marian answered, beaming at him and reaching over to lace her fingers with his. "So sweet..." She tugged on his hand a little, and he understood her intent, leaning down to give her another soft kiss – and then, just as he pulled away, she felt the startling sensation of ice on the back of her neck.

With a giggle, she pushed him back onto his side. "Really, Harold!"

Laughing heartily, the music professor sat up to reach for a new piece of ice. "It was just about melted – I didn't want to let it go to waste!"

Though she rolled her eyes at that justification, she welcomed her husband eagerly when he dove into her décolletage as if he couldn't resist, first with his mouth and then, as she'd been waiting for, with the ice.

On the more sensitive skin of her breasts, each stroke of the ice did indeed feel more intense, and Marian trembled lightly with mingled excitement and uncertainty as he drew spiraling circles closer and closer to his destination. And then, at last, he did to her what she had done to him, though intentionally this time, touching the corner of the ice briefly against her nipple. The sensation was a shock that made her jump and gasp just as he had, but it was not at all unpleasant… and then it became something entirely new and delightful when he followed the freezing cold seconds later by pressing his warm mouth and tongue to her breast, something that made her cry out and clutch at the comforter for stability even though she was laying down.

Raising his head and looking into her eyes when they opened, Harold asked her, "Is that good?" and though his tone was seductive, he looked and sounded less self-assured than he usually did when he asked her a question like this in bed, less certain that the answer would be "yes".

"Oh, it's wonderful," she breathed, already impatient for him to continue.

With a grin, her husband promptly returned to his task, performing the same extraordinary ritual of ice and heat on her other breast, this time with greater confidence. Desire was humming under her skin, her head spinning with fevered thoughts of what might come next, what other pleasures might be made more intense in this way.

When Harold sat back up again the next time, almost all of the lighthearted humor had gone out of his face, replaced by a dark tumult of passion that she knew must have mirrored her own.

He inched his hand along her inner thigh with a sort of casual possessiveness. "I think," he drawled, "I want to write something here."

Marian gazed up at him, breathless, trembling with anticipation, and nodded.

She could barely hold still as he traced the message along her thigh – it would have been agonizing enough for him to tease that sensitive skin if it _weren't_ adjacent to far more sensitive areas that she was absolutely desperate for him to delve into. Arousal heightened her senses and clouded her mind all at the same time, and she didn't know how she could be expected to concentrate on their little game when she could think of nothing but how fiercely she _wanted_ him –

"What am I writing?" His voice was low and rough in her ear.

"I – I don't know," she admitted.

"Let me try again."

It could have been something outright obscene – she didn't dare guess – but really, she wondered if there even _were_ a word or if he was just teasing her mercilessly now, making her wait and wait and wait for the moment when he would finally relieve the only heat that mattered to her right now –

Then, suddenly – _he touched her. His fingers were cold._

Marian let out a little yelp of surprise and delight and Harold met her eyes appraisingly, pulling his hand away. "Good or bad?" he was quick to ask, careful as ever to ensure her comfort when trying something new.

Laughing breathily, she shook her head, running a hand through her hair and pushing it back away from her skin in the process. "Oh, no – good. Um, very good."

"Good, good." Her husband's handsome face lit up in a grin, and she could tell he had some even more wicked idea on his mind as he sat up slightly and reached for a new ice chip. She watched him curiously, heart pounding with arousal and anticipation and apprehension, and then Harold did something she wasn't expecting at all – he placed the ice in his mouth.

_Oh._

There was about a split second in between her comprehension of what he was going to do, her wondering of how that might feel, and the moment when his lips and tongue were upon her and she didn't need to wonder.

She let out a broken cry, an attempt to form words that was unsuccessful but ultimately unnecessary. Her skin was hotter than ever and the contrast in sensation was blissful, incredible. Just the feeling of his mouth on her was already one of her very favorite things in the world – how is it that he could constantly surprise her with the way he could make her favorite things even better?

As she writhed feverishly beneath him, his hands cupped and lifted her backside, pulling her in close to him as he tasted and tasted her, tongue gliding up and down and in and out. He was so, so good at this and she unapologetically, shamelessly loved it. And Harold was absolutely voracious, as if he couldn't get enough of her pleasure, as if the taste of her were the most glorious delicacy in the world. It aroused her nearly as much as the act itself – well, maybe at least half as much – to know that he was so earnest about it, that he took such obvious joy in pleasuring her that she never had to worry about feeling selfish. She'd sensed his ardent enthusiasm from the very first time he'd made love to her with his mouth on their honeymoon, but she'd only come to really understand the feeling after she'd dared to experience it for herself a few weeks after that.

Her mind and her senses all blurring into hazy delirium, Marian tangled her hands in his dark hair and held him insistently against her. The heat building within her body made the temperature of the air even more unbearable, but she barely noticed or even felt it. Nothing mattered, nothing even entered her awareness, except his lips and tongue tracing intricate patterns on her and bringing her toward the release she so desperately craved.

She let out a pathetic little cry when he pulled away from her for a moment, ready to plead for him to come back, wondering _why_ he'd stop now – but of course, it was because he needed a new piece of ice.

Vaguely, through the haze of heat and unbearable arousal that clouded her mind, she noticed he'd taken two.

One was, of course, for his mouth, which, _thank heavens_ , was on her again within an instant as she arched closer to him, and the second one... the second one, he inched very cautiously closer and closer to the most sensitive part of her, never actually touching, and even at that distance it was unlike anything she'd ever felt.

Even in the midst of everything he took a moment to lift his tousled head and search her eyes, looking every bit as wild with arousal as she knew she must, asking in a hoarse voice, "Good? I won't go too close with it, I promise."

"Yes, good, good, _please_ don't stop..."

It didn't take much more of this delicious torture before ecstasy swept through her in white-hot flashes, release making her cry out sharply and lift her hips from the bed while her husband grasped them firmly and held them in place. With the same persistent eagerness, he continued his ministrations to prolong her climax as long as he possibly could until she finally had to push him gently away when the aftermath of pleasure had rendered her too sensitive to bear it.

Marian lay stunned, gasping, somehow _more_ aware of just how hot it was now that the wild heat within her body had subsided and she'd regained some modicum of good sense. Harold must have noticed immediately, because within moments he was pressing her glass of water into her hand, helping her to a more upright position at the same time.

"Thank you," she managed to stammer before taking a long drink. Most of the ice in the glass had already melted, but the water was still cool and refreshing, and it came as a great relief. She realized with slight dismay that it seemed almost crass for those to be the first words she spoke to her husband after he'd given her such sweet, selfless pleasure – _thank you_ – but if he thought so, he didn't show it. He was clearly a bit distracted by the heat himself, anyway.

As Harold sipped from his own glass, Marian rolled over to face him, still dazed from the intensity of her climax. "What gave you the idea to do that with the ice?" she blurted gracelessly, before she could consider the wisdom of doing so. "Is that something that – men _do_ …?"

Harold simply shrugged, lips twitching into a wry grin. "It was an experiment of sorts."

The librarian couldn't help but break into a smile, feeling an unexpected rush of relief and even pride. "Ah, I'd expect no less from the man who invented the Think System…"

"Discovering new ways to pleasure and delight you is one of my chief aims in life, you know. I might not have said it out loud, for, ah, obvious reasons, but I'd consider that one of my marriage vows – to make love to you as often and in as many exciting places and ways as I possibly can. With a particular emphasis on making you come over and over again, every single time." Though he was undoubtedly trying to sound smooth and nonchalant, his voice was roughened by desire by the time he finished speaking.

His grin had started out broad and devilish as he teased her, but as always, his expression quickly softened with deep affection, even in the midst of this most brazen statement calculated to make her blush. And she did blush, and giggle, and was rendered speechless for a moment, but she was not ashamed, and she felt nothing but delight and excitement as she met his gaze with her own. For the moment, she could only manage to answer with a breathy "Oh, Harold."

Marian absolutely loved her husband, the expert lover, just the way he was, and she was certain she was the luckiest woman in the world to have ended up with a husband so well-versed in female pleasure, as long as she didn't dwell on _why_ that was the case – and she didn't, anymore. He and all his talents belonged to her alone and that was that. But it made her immensely happy to learn that this novelty, this discovery of the erotic possiblities of ice, had been something all their own, as surprising to him as it was to her. Her heart soared with the knowledge that there was so much more for them to discover, that maybe someday even _she'd_ come up with something completely new for them to try. Marian imagined that this sort of dynamic could only be borne of a prolonged, deepening intimate relationship with the same partner, something Harold had confessed he'd never shared with anyone except her. At times when insecurities crept up on her, it was knowledge like this that reminded her how special what they had together truly was.

As the breeze from the fans rushed over her skin and the heat receded slightly, the librarian abruptly felt very aware of the fact that she was naked and her husband still was not. A few months ago, this might have flustered her, but Marian was much more proficient in seduction these days, and right now, she could only think of resuming her earlier plan to entice him. She was confident in how beautiful and irresistible he found her, though it felt a bit vain to acknowledge it so bluntly, and even as her pregnancy started to show, Harold had kept her well-assured that it only increased her intoxicating allure for him.

So the librarian did not make the slightest move to cover herself or retrieve her chemise, instead contemplating how she could tempt him to join her in nakedness. It was incredibly obvious how aroused he was – it was almost amusing, the way he was calling no attention to it, though he was clad in nothing but a thin pair of pajama bottoms and had his wife sprawled naked by his side! He simply sat there sipping his glass of water and occasionally stroking her hand fondly, perhaps thinking that she was about to fall asleep.

But his breath was coming quickly, his jaw set tightly, and the ache of desire coiled low in Marian's abdomen once again as she pictured all the ways she could make him come undone.

By all appearances, he had no plans to make even an attempt to resume their lovemaking and achieve his own satisfaction in the process. Marian knew that it must be because he didn't want to do anything that would make her more uncomfortable in the heat, especially considering her current condition. It was so good of him to always put her comfort above his own gratification… but part of the reason she had learned so quickly to assert her own desire was that sometimes, he was just too cautious about thsse things. And unless she was truly too tired to move an inch, she never wanted to leave him unsatisfied, not merely out of some sense of wifely duty but because she so enjoyed bringing him to the very heights of physical pleasure, making him moan and cry out and bringing him to release, just as he loved doing the same for her.

Emboldened, Marian inched closer to Harold. As soon as she was able to reach, she yanked at the waistband of his pajamas to pull him near, and his face lit up with a brilliant smile, evidently very pleasantly surprised.

"You know we don't have to – " he uttered hastily, ever the careful gentleman, but she slipped her hand beneath the thin fabric before he could finish speaking, and he jolted in her arms, a stifled groan escaping his lips.

"But we want to," she countered immediately, eyes glimmering with mischief. "I know I do, and you certainly _feel_ like you do – " Marian actually made herself blush with her own bold words, but she did not falter for a moment in her gaze or her movements.

Harold's attempt at a response was lost in a moan as her hands continued to explore him, and a moment later he did not hesitate to lift his hips and help her slide off his pajama pants.

"Too hot for those anyway," he quipped, his voice hoarse with raw need.

The librarian intended to make a quip about what he was specifically deeming " _hot_ ", but she found herself a little too flustered for that when her gaze dropped to his lap. It always made her face redden up to her ears to observe him so intimately, but she didn't feel the least bit ashamed of looking, and they both knew it. Even without looking up, she knew that at this very second Harold was probably grinning with that masculine pride she found so amusing, watching her gaze boldly at his arousal with such obvious desire in her eyes.

Often she teased him about it, but right now, she decided to allow him his gloating, focusing her efforts instead on leaving him breathless and speechless with her deft hands. She watched his head fall back on the pillow, and relished the hitch in his breathing when she did something he particularly liked, and soon she was the one smiling smugly.

Climbing astride him, she was all prepared to kiss her way down her husband's body and drive him wild when she realized she'd forgotten to get a piece of ice first. Marian sat up suddenly and rolled away so she could reach the bucket on his bedside table – or at least, she tried to roll away, because in the brief moment in which she'd let her guard down and he'd recovered a few of his higher faculties, Harold had entangled her in his arms and rolled her beneath him, devouring her lips with deep, hungry kisses.

As much as she wanted to show him the same unique pleasure he'd given her, the librarian did not have the slightest inclination to resist his ravishment. Taking the lead was always great fun, but so too was abandoning herself to his strong arms, the thrill of being taken by him while also feeling entirely safe and secure and adored. There would be plenty of time to play around with ice later, and right now, his reckless desperation to have her was intoxicating – one way or the other, she wanted to watch him lose control.

In a display of impressive finesse, Harold managed to nudge her legs open and lift them high around his waist without pausing in his heated kisses for an instant, and, with a clever tilt of her hips, she had him pressing against her entrance within moments, all at once overwhelmed with an urgent need to feel her husband inside her.

She was already beyond ready for him thanks to his earlier attentions, and he slid easily right into her with a deep groan as she gasped and arched her back to welcome him, body trembling with fulfillment.

Marian swept her hands down his back, shamelessly grasping his backside to press him closer and deeper into her with every thrust. She wanted nothing more than for him to just make love to her as furiously as he pleased, to lose herself to the vigor of his body and his passion... but it was simply too hot for him to cover her body with his like this, and they both knew it.

Mumbling something incoherent, Harold gripped her hips tightly and rolled them over so she could straddle him upright, leaving both of their bare bodies open to the breezes in the room. The librarian immediately took the opportunity to brush the stray hairs off her neck and forehead in relief – she was now very happy they hadn't taken her chignon down beforehand, though it had been rather uncomfortable when she was laying down.

As she adjusted her position, Marian whimpered anew at the changed angle of him within her that sent lightning bolts up her spine. Though she still craved the robust pace they'd started with, she had absolutely no complaints when he began to move slowly and steadily within her, drawing out every stroke. It was obvious what he was doing – trying to bring both of them as much pleasure as possible without exerting themselves too much in the heat.

They moved together more languidly than they ever had before, reveling in drawing out each wave of pleasure, soft pants and gasps and moans filling the room. It added to the decadence of the moment, somehow, knowing they could take their time. It gave her a chance to watch him more closely than she could have during a more frenetic coupling, too, to observe all of the minute responses in his body and face and voice as he moved within her.

And she could tell that Harold was doing the same – she beamed impishly at him when she noticed his eyes roving hungrily over her body, settling particularly on her breasts as they swayed with their movements, and his eager hands soon followed his gaze. The first time he had ever shown her that they could make love in this position, she'd been excited to try something new but almost painfully self-conscious at the pressure it put on her to _perform_. Now she thoroughly enjoyed knowing that she was giving him such a display, confident in how beautiful she was to him and how well she could please him. Barely-formed fragments of sentences fell from his lips as they moved together, words of sheer adoration that set her heart aglow, and she whispered back a stream of equally-ardent declarations.

As wonderful as their leisurely coupling was, though, it wasn't long before her body was demanding more. The slowly mounting sensation was glorious agony, bringing her close to the peak of pleasure many times as the minutes passed but never _quite_ over the edge. She felt like a mess of aching desire, still desperate even though his hand had slipped between her legs to stroke the center of her pleasure with well-practiced skill as he glided slowly, slowly in and out of her. And she knew Harold must be holding back, considering how rough and wild and frenzied he'd been with her before he'd rolled them over. Rocking her hips more insistently against her husband's, Marian tried to encourage him to meet her pace, not sure how to ask directly for what she wanted him to do.

" _Marian_ – " There was an edge to his voice that she knew meant that she was pushing at the borders of his self-control, and it was delicious.

"Please – more," she murmured, color rushing to her face from being made to say it. "I don't care that it's hot, just – faster, please – I need you – "

With a ragged groan, Harold abruptly pulled her down until her elbows rested on his chest and their foreheads were nearly touching, his hands grabbing her hips and squeezing her bottom as he thrust into her at a feverish pace, no longer caring about the heat, the impracticality of being skin-to-skin. Marian found herself happily helpless in his arms despite being atop him, crying out in joyful relief between the open-mouthed kisses they shared. She didn't even have to exert herself too much more than she had been before, as her husband had taken the lead so completely – later, she would realize that he must have done it on purpose for that very reason, given her condition.

It was, of course, more difficult to watch his face in this position, but what she could see was exquisite, and the strangled sounds that escaped his throat as he both chased and fought against his release were what pushed her over that precipice she'd been teetering on. When overwhelming pleasure finally flooded her, it was all the more powerful and sustained for having taken so long, and she found herself shaking from head to toe as a keening wail escaped her throat.

As she found ecstasy in his arms, Harold surrendered whatever remained of his restraint. His fingers sank into her hips as he thrust frantically upward, his moans growing more and more desperate until he found his own release with a euphoric cry of her name.

Dazed as she was, the librarian leaned up with her elbows on his chest, stroking his cheek as he grinned ear-to-ear in the most charmingly foolish way, and felt her heart simply overflowing. Despite her own pleasure-induced delirium, Marian always made sure to watch her husband in his moment of bliss if at all possible, awed and transfixed by the sight and sound of him thoroughly unraveling on the most primal level because of _her_. And it was so incredibly intimate, watching him melt from that triumphant moment of climax into the most pliant, vulnerable state of deep satisfaction. He couldn't stop smiling, and she realized that neither could she, and everything in the world was perfect and lovely.

At last succumbing to the momentary exhaustion of post-coital euphoria, she collapsed atop her husband and nestled in close, letting him whisper sweet nothings and cover her face with kisses as she pressed her own along his neck and jawline. But, reluctant as she was to break contact with him, this could only last for a short time before she had to roll onto her side and once again lay beside him to escape the merciless heat that they had only intensified through their exertions. They were wordless for a bit longer than usual – now that they were no longer in the throes of blazing ardor, they were becoming keenly aware of just how hot it was again, and they both lay gasping for a minute as the soft breezes from the fans and open window helped to carry some of that heat away.

As her mind gradually returned to a properly functioning state, Marian thought, as she so often did at these moments, of how profoundly amazed she was that she had married this man, that this was what her married life was like. Last year at this time, she had already known and loved Harold, but even then she could not have even begun to imagine _this_. She was a being unrecognizable to her former self now, lying spent and satisfied in languid bliss on a hotel bed in broad daylight with the most beautiful man she ever could have dreamed up. Harold had introduced her to pure, sensual decadence. No matter where they were, he made her feel like a queen sprawled on silk sheets, made her feel that nothing in the world could be more luxurious, indulgent, extravagant.

And what was truly remarkable was that he had given her everything she'd ever wanted and _more_ , true love and marriage and a baby on the way and also passion beyond imagination – things that the world would have had her believe were mutually exclusive. Luscious, endless afternoons of lovemaking like this one were hers without sin, without guilt, without fear, because he was her husband and they'd done everything properly to earn this intimacy. Before Harold had changed her life, she hadn't known that it was possible to feel this utterly fulfilled as a woman, hadn't understood that she was made for more than some sort of abstract, chaste and courtly love. Of course, the librarian was well aware that _he_ had never expected this kind of thing either, though his lack of understanding came from quite the opposite direction. But each of them was exactly what the other had needed and yearned for without knowing how, and together, they had found something rare and precious and perfect.

Marian gazed over at Harold with a happy sigh, unconsciously toying with the diamond solitaire and wedding band on her finger as she did so, and the baby fluttered around a bit in her belly as if to reinforce exactly how lucky she was. She smiled as their eyes met. Her music professor was breathing heavily, a disheveled, perspiring mess, but still beaming in satiated bliss – just the way she most loved to see him. With her heart flip-flopping pleasantly with affection, she scooted a little closer to him.

"God, you're perfect," he breathed as he gazed back at her, and Marian was feeling so elated that she couldn't even think to be bothered by his language.

"I can't believe we thought we could come back to our room and undress and it _wouldn't_ end up like this, regardless of the weather," she mused as her fingers danced idly along the expanse of his chest, this statement of simple truth about the nature of their relationship somehow expressing all of the grateful awe she'd just been feeling.

Harold laughed breathlessly and winked, obviously immensely pleased with that fact as well. "Who ever said I thought that?"

"Well, it was _so_ hot out there. I really did believe that all we'd have the energy to do would be to lay here – at first. At least, I think I believed it."

"What can I say? We are a force of nature." He tapped her affectionately on the nose. " _You_ are a force of nature, my dear little librarian."

Marian was about to retort that she'd hardly had to _persuade_ him to get amorous, but suddenly he'd gotten up on his feet and was walking around to her side of the bed, dropping some more ice into her abandoned glass of water and then pressing it into her hands.

"Drink," he commanded. "The baby and you both need it, remember. "

Though the librarian sipped gratefully from the glass, she regarded him with slight bemusement. "You've made sure I've had plenty of water all afternoon, darling. You mustn't worry _too_ much. I feel perfectly fine and happy, just a bit – flushed." Taking his hand, she pressed it reassuringly against her slightly rounded belly.

Her husband gently kissed her forehead and smiled down at her in hesitant relief. "Still… maybe I should draw you a bath." Continuing to attend to his wife thoughtfully, he fetched her thin chemise from where they'd tossed it and placed it in her hands. "I don't see any other way we can hope to cool off at this point."

Marian wriggled into the chemise to restore the smallest bit of her modesty and then rolled onto her side to watch him with a smirk as he pulled on his own pants. "Oh, you said 'we'? You're planning to draw a bath for the both of us, aren't you?"

Harold's face lit up in that trademark, devilishly dazzling grin. "Oh, you little temptress. My thoughts were nothing but pure!" He waggled his finger teasingly at her while she sat up with exaggerated primness, hands folded in her lap as she tried not to giggle.

He made a playful lunge at her, but she was too quick, nimbly rolling away and getting to her feet in a burst of breathless laughter. As she made her way over to the washroom, Marian grabbed another chip from the ice bucket as she breezed past and ran it across the back of her neck with a little sigh.

"You know, you never told me what it was you wrote on my thigh," she noted offhandedly as the details of the prelude to their frenzied romp filtered back into her conscious mind.

"Oh?" Something in his eyes smoldered and darkened as she turned to look back at him, and with a wicked grin lighting his features, Harold closed in on her until he had her backed up against the nearest wall. "I'm surprised you didn't get it. It was an easy one." With one hand planted on the wall beside her, he placed one hand on her soft, bare leg and brought it up to wrap around his hip. "Four letters – "

"Four letters?" she murmured coyly. "Will I be shocked, _Mister_ Hill?"

Eyebrows raised in stunned delight that she'd even dare to make such a joke, Harold actually seemed knocked off-balance for a moment. He shook his head with a low laugh. "Nothing like _that_." He traced the word along her thigh with his fingertips again as he held her against the wall and murmured the word huskily in her ear: "Mine."

In an instant, all good sense fled her - that playful yet rough possessiveness that only came out when they were intimately entwined was always Marian's undoing, and she shivered in the heat with the intensity of renewed arousal that flooded through her, knees wobbling, all her secret places tingling with need.

She tried to respond, to flirt or banter with him, but all that came out was a little mewling sound of desire. Her ice chip dropped to the floor, forgotten, and she clung to him all soft and yielding and needy, regardless of the fact that she had thought her desire quite satisfied for the time being only a moment ago.

"You are _mine_ … mine to touch… mine to make love to…" He punctuated his brazen assertions with open-mouthed kisses along her neck. "Every last gorgeous inch of you."

Tilting her head back, Marian moaned shamelessly, dizzy with the effect he had on her. Suddenly all she wanted was to hear him say those things again while he was inside of her – she didn't even know how to express such a desire.

"I am, I am," she affirmed in between gasps, breathless and melting and completely ready to allow him to demonstrate. "Heart, body, and soul."

Then suddenly she became aware of a bead of perspiration running down her back, and the uncomfortable sensation was enough to jolt her back to her senses, reluctantly. Here they were supposed to be washing up and cooling down, and they couldn't even manage the few steps across the hotel room without getting distracted!

"Harold..."

"Mmm, Marian," he responded in a low baritone rumble before burying his face in her neck, too lost to passion to recognize that she was actually trying to speak to him.

"Harold!" she exclaimed with a laugh, pulling away a little despite the overwhelming urge to nestle closer and give in. "Shouldn't we at least get in the bath before we heat ourselves up even more?"

It seemed to take a few moments for her words to register in her husband's mind, already set firmly on seduction, but finally comprehension flickered across his handsome face and he broke into a grin yet again. "All right, I'm sure we can manage that much if we put our minds to it," Harold replied with a wink, lowering her back to the floor and stepping back to release her from his embrace long enough for them to step inside the washroom, where his hands were immediately all over her again as soon as they had the water running.

Later that evening, when the heat subsided with the setting sun and they finally made it out to dinner and a show, Harold and Marian would be a poised and stunning couple that drew glances even among the more indifferent crowds of the big city, an exceptionally attractive pair without one hair out of place. No one looking at them could have had any idea about the love bites on her inner thighs, the indents from her fingernails on his back, the heated secrets in the glances they shared. And certainly no one, no one could have made sense of his brilliant grin and her glowing blush when he reached across the table, tapped her glass, and innocently inquired if she wanted any more ice.


End file.
